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Sweet and pure. Warm and tender.
Young and beautiful.
Tom Marrotta Jr.
The chronological sorting of memories is an interesting challenge. My time then is distant and blurry, except my time with him. Although, we had so many happy days that they sometimes merge into a sweet and indistinct blur. But that may be how I want to remember those days. My thoughts of him may be idealized due, in part, to the intense feelings and emotions we had for one another. I felt that it was all going to come together – my future, my past, the whole of my life. I might have had any number of ways to speak about him, but this is the only way I will ever do so.
We were an odd mix, I suppose. Just a neighborhood group of friends that would gather almost daily. Usually within the same several city blocks, occupying one street corner or another. O’Connor’s Park and St. Agnes Cemetery was the furthest we would stroll east. James Street to the south. Square Street to the north and Neilson Street to the west. Cornhill. Mature trees everywhere. Entirely residential. That was our neighborhood and the limits to our roaming. It would all change when, one by one, we began driving. We were throwbacks from Theodore Roosevelt School, K-8, located on Taylor Ave near the corner of Arthur. We all lived within several blocks of the school and had attended it for most of our years. Although we had moved on to one of six high schools in the city, three public and three Catholic, we still gathered as a group to share the daily snippets that made up our teenage lives. There was Robertello, sweet kid he was, and Gail, always practical and proper, yet always with a smile. Naomi, Frankie D, Janet, and Chucky. Also, Maggie, sweet as ever, always upbeat, and funny. I named my pet duck after her. Timmy O’ and usually one or more of the Ryan siblings, and Ned. David H and Jim C, the two intense personalities of the group. Jim, ever the loyal friend. Susan P, and the two granddaughters of the neighborhood plumber, sisters Julia and Regina. Odd that I remember them